


The Hunger Games

by Duchess_Of_York



Category: La Divina Commedia | The Divine Comedy - Dante Alighieri
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Blood, Character Death, Dargil, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 20:17:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4276560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duchess_Of_York/pseuds/Duchess_Of_York
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One shot. Virgil is a Tribute in the Hunger Games. He mostly keeps to himself before he forms an alliance with a boy named Dante. Who will survive?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hunger Games

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably the first "serious" fanfiction I've written since 2013. Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. I hope you like it!

The artificial sunlight almost blinded Virgil as he stood on the metal plate, anxiously waiting for the Games to begin. A thick forest surrounded the Tributes, and a mountain stood ominously in the distance. He kept his eyes on the Cornucopia, carefully eyeing the things he was going to take before running off. Occasionally, he would glance over at the other Tributes but look away before they were able to make eye contact. It was like this for a few seconds before he saw him.

Virgil made eye contact with a boy who looked to be about his age, if not a year or so younger. His dark brown eyes were wide with fear, and his curly brown hair was somewhat disheveled.

He broke eye contact with the other boy just before the gong sounded. Virgil bolted for the Cornucopia, not looking back. He was quite fast on his feet despite being tall and quite awkward. His heart was racing, and he hastily attempted to catch his breath when he reached the Cornucopia. Luckily, he was the first to arrive. He threw a bag over his shoulders and picked up a shiny silver scythe before darting off into the woods.

He didn’t stop running. He rushed between the thick trees in an endeavor to escape the brutal massacre that was now taking place at the Cornucopia. The screams of unfortunate Tributes filled the air, and Virgil began to wonder if the boy he saw was one of the victims. It didn’t matter, anyway. He didn’t have time to mourn the loss of someone he barely knew. At that moment, all he needed to focus on was finding a safe place.

Eventually, Virgil ran out of breath and stopped sprinting. His side cramped terribly, and he felt as though his chest would explode. He scanned around for any possible dangers in the area he was in as he tried to catch his breath. From what he could see, the area was relatively safe. He sat down in the shade of a nearby tree and began looking through his bag. He was relieved to find a full bottle of water, a small blanket, some rope, some bandages, and a box of matches. Of course, it wasn’t much. However, Virgil was thankful and knew he could put the items to good use.

When he finally caught his breath, Virgil got up and began walking toward the mountain in the distance, using his long scythe as a walking stick. He figured that the mountain was the center of the arena. He hoped that there would be a water source of some sort there. If not, then surely there was one along the way.

He continued hiking to the mountain until the artificial sun began to set. The sky soon lit up, and the faces of the dead Tributes flashed across the sky as the national anthem played. So far, fourteen Tributes had died. He wondered if he would be among the next to die. This worried him greatly.

Virgil, in an attempt to get that off his mind, began looking for a place to settle down for the night. He found small collection of bushes and hid his bag in it. He yawned and curled up with the blanket beside the bushes and closed his eyes. The coldness of the night made him shiver. However, soon he slowly felt himself drifting off to sleep…

A loud, piercing scream jolted Virgil awake, catching him off guard. He quickly grabbed hold of his scythe and looked around for where it might have come from. A light in the distance caught his attention. He got up, making sure his supplies were still safely tucked away in the bushes, and quietly began walking in the direction of the light.

When he tiptoed closer, he noticed the smell of smoke getting stronger. It was a fire, definitely. He frowned. Whoever was stupid enough to light a fire at night in the Games was almost asking to be killed. He silently inched closer, and saw that a boy was being surrounded by three other Tributes. Upon closer inspection, Virgil noticed that the boy was the same one he had made eye contact with before the Games began. The other Tributes had their weapons out and looked ready to attack him.

“Please, don’t kill me!” the boy pleaded. He didn’t seem to have any weapons. The other Tributes mocked him.

A dull pain filled Virgil’s chest, making him feel awful. He wanted to do something to help the boy, but he didn’t know what. He didn’t want to kill anyone. His shaky hands gripped his scythe, and he took in a few ragged breaths. He tried to move closer, but his fear rooted him to the spot. One of the Tributes swung his sword at the boy. He awkwardly tried to back away, but got his arm cut in the process. He winced in pain, and Tribute raised his sword again.

Something snapped in Virgil. He couldn’t stand to see this boy get hurt. He had to stand up for him.

Virgil leapt out of the shadows and stood in front of the boy. He held his scythe out in front of him, prepared to strike anyone who got near. “E-Enough!” He demanded, trying to sound as threatening as he possibly could, “Get out of here, or you’ll be sorry!” The other Tributes coldly laughed at him. They could clearly see he was shaking like a leaf. They refused to leave.

The Tribute with the sword turned his attention to Virgil. He raised his sword to strike him. Without thinking, Virgil swung his scythe in one swift motion and thrust it into the chest of the Tribute. The Tribute stood there for a moment, impaled and in shock, before coughing up blood and collapsing. Not long after, a cannon sounded, but by then, the other two Tributes fled.

Virgil stood there, stunned. He could feel the color drain from his face. He had just taken the life of another human being. His eyes widened in horror as he looked at the bloody, lacerated corpse that now lay at his feet. He felt dizzy and nauseated. He thought he was going to be sick. He needed to sit down.

The voice of the boy behind him brought him back to reality. “Y-You saved me…” he sounded grateful, yet somewhat confused.

“Yeah…” Virgil muttered. He staggered over to a nearby tree and placed his hand on its trunk, leaning against it.

“Are you okay?” the boy sounded worried.

“I… I think so,” he responded, his voice barely a whisper. He closed his eyes, looked down, and tried to catch his breath. He took a few deep breaths to calm down, then looked at the boy, “Sorry about that. I’m Virgil.”

The boy slowly approached Virgil, giving a somewhat shy smile, “I’m Dante.”

Virgil blushed and looked away. This boy was cute. Very cute.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Now, get going before those two Tributes get back.”

Dante looked down at the dead body of the Tribute that attacked him. He crouched down and picked up the sword that was still in the Tribute’s grasp. He held it in his hands and examined it closely. “I’m sure we’ll be fine if they come back. We can take them.”

“’We?’”

Dante nodded. “Wanna form an alliance?”

It was such an odd, almost out-of-nowhere question. Virgil wasn’t sure what to think. Watching the Games back home, he never understood the point of alliances. What was the point if they were all going to die, anyway? Virgil sighed. He honestly didn’t think he would make it this far. Perhaps, with the help of this boy, he could make it even further. He supposed that forming an alliance would increase his chances of survival.

“Fine,” Virgil reluctantly replied. He and Dante shook hands.

Virgil put out the fire. Dante sat down, and Virgil took a seat next to him.

“So, uh, what supplies do you have?” Virgil inquired.

“I don’t have much,” Dante admitted, “the only thing I found in my bag was an empty water bottle and a box of matches.” Virgil didn’t blame him. He knew that when you’re picking out your stuff at the Cornucopia, you don’t exactly have time to sort through all the bags and pick out the best one.

Virgil thought for a moment. “That’s alright. I have plenty of supplies,” he knew he was exaggerating the truth a bit, “We can share.”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to-“

“Don’t be silly. We’re partners now. We have to share things,” Virgil gave him a reassuring smile.

Dante gave a small smile in return. His smile did not last long, however. He soon broke eye contact with Virgil and looked down at his wounded arm.

Virgil gasped. “Oh, you’re still bleeding!” He was very concerned, “Here, let me help…” he grabbed a few of the bandages in his bag.

“I’m fine,” Dante tried to object, “It’s just a scratch.”

“Oh, hush,” he stated as he rolled up Dante’s sleeve. Dante tried to remain still as Virgil carefully applied the bandages. “There. Better?”

“I guess,” he still didn’t think it was necessary, “Thanks.”

They noticed the area was getting lighter. The artificial sun slowly made its way above the horizon.

“We have to keep moving,” Virgil stated, “it isn’t good to stay in one place for too long.”

Dante nodded, “Okay. Where are we going?”

“To that mountain in the distance. I have a feeling it will be safer there.”

They began traveling again. Dead leaves crunched under their feet as they continued marching forward, and birds cawed overhead. As they continued, the woods began to get thicker and thicker. They reached a spot in the woods where the canopy of the forest was so heavy and interlaced that the sun could barely shine through. It was dark, and the birds were eerily silent. This gave Virgil a very uneasy feeling. He felt as though they were being watched. He stopped abruptly and paused for a moment. He scanned around, checking for any potential threats, and listened in closely.

“What is it?” Dante asked.

“Shhhh….” Virgil continued listening. He heard something rustling. A shiver went down his spine when he realized what was causing it. A hungry pack of wolves had surrounded them and were now crouched down, prepared to attack them both. The gnarling creatures had been hidden well between the bushes and trees. The color drained from Dante’s face when he saw them, and he slowly began moving closer to Virgil. Virgil felt his heart racing as he began to think of a plan.

Virgil quickly grabbed Dante’s hand, and they began running as fast as they could out of the woods. The sound of the wolves chasing after them encouraged them to run faster. They continued sprinting, even after they had left the forest. Eventually, they both ran out of breath and had to stop running.

“You think we lost them?”

“Yeah…” Virgil noticed they were still holding hands. Dante did, too, and blushed a bit before letting go.

“Where are we?” Dante asked, looking around.

Virgil looked around for the mountain, and, to his surprise, realized they were actually quite a bit closer to it than they were before. He grinned. “We’re almost to the mountain. Come on, let’s keep going.” He glanced at Dante, who appeared to be exhausted.

Dante reluctantly followed as Virgil led the way. Virgil didn’t realize how tired he himself was until a short distance into their walk. He glanced back at Dante. “Maybe…” he stated, “Maybe we should take a break…” Dante nodded in agreement.

They found a nice spot in the woods where a tree had fallen. They sat down on the fallen tree, and Virgil began digging through his bag. He got out his water bottle and began drinking from it before handing it over to Dante. He was thankful for the water, but he knew it wouldn’t last long. If they didn’t find another source of water soon, they wouldn’t be lasting much longer, either.

The sound of a distant beeping growing closer and closer caught Virgil’s attention. He saw a parachute gentling carrying a package down from the sky. He got up and grabbed it while it was still in the air. He opened the package and, to his delight, found that inside it was a loaf of bread.

“What is it?” Dante asked.

“Food!” Virgil was overjoyed. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he was met with the wonderful scent of warm bread. He was thankful to whoever had sent this to them. He took the bread and broke it in two, handing half of it to Dante. They both attempting to savor the bread, but to no avail. They devoured it, and, in almost no time, the bread was gone.

Virgil decided that it would be best just to camp there for the night. The sun was going down anyway, and he thought there was no point in trying to continue hiking in the dark. They watched as the sky lit up and the anthem played. The faces of the dead Tributes were plastered on the sky. Three had died that day.

Dante shivered. Virgil noticed this, and wondered if there was anything he could do to help. He remembered that he still had that blanket in his bag. He got it out and draped it over Dante’s shoulders.

“Thanks…” he muttered. He lied down and wrapped the blanket around himself. It was a bit thin, but it would do. Virgil lied down beside him, facing the other way, and curled up like a cat. “Do you not have another blanket?”

“No. That’s my only one. I think you need it more than I do, though.”

“Aren’t you cold?”

“Not really,” Virgil was, in fact, very cold. He wasn’t fooling anybody.

“Well, I mean…” Dante blushed, “We could always… Share the blanket…”

Virgil felt himself blushing. His heart pounded in his chest, and he could feel butterflies in his stomach. “Sure, I guess…” he replied, trying to sound nonchalant. He heard Dante move closer, and before he knew it, the blanket was covering both of them, and Dante was only a few inches away from him. Virgil could feel his warmth. They were so close to each other.

He closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep. It was difficult, however, with all of the thoughts of the last two days racing through his mind. He listened in to all the sounds of the woods, trying to get his mind off of it. The buzzing of the nearby insects reminded him of his small bee farm at home. He smiled at the memory, then frowned, knowing he would most likely never see his home again. Things are going well so far, he thought. There are just seven more tributes. I have to outlive them…

This didn’t cheer him up at all. Only one tribute could make it out alive, meaning that either he or Dante would have to die. He didn’t want Dante to have to die. He had only known him for a short time, and, already, he had taken quite the liking to him. Perhaps it was more than a like? _No_ , Virgil thought, _there’s no point in falling in love in the Games. It will only end in tragedy_. He sighed. Besides, _Dante probably doesn’t even feel the same way._

Little did he know, the same thoughts were running through Dante’s head.

* * *

 

Virgil was the first one to wake up. He must have turned over in his sleep because now he was looking right at Dante. He watched him for a while. Dante was so cute when he was sleeping. He looked so pure, so innocent. Virgil gave a small smile.

Dante opened his eyes and saw Virgil staring at him. “Morning” he said before yawning.

“Good morning,” Virgil replied before sitting up and stretching.

“So, what’s the plan for today?”

Virgil sighed. He didn’t quite know how to put this. “I think it would be best if we…” he paused for a moment. Did he really want to go through this? Of course he didn’t, but he knew it was most likely for the best, “…Split up.”

“What?” Dante was confused.

Virgil looked down. “You know that only one person can make it out of the games alive,” he continued, “If we continue on like this, eventually only we will be left…” He could feel himself tearing up. He blinked, hoping it would go away.

“I see,” Dante frowned and got up, “Thank you so much for everything you’ve done for me.

“Oh, it was no-“

“I mean it. If it weren’t for you, I probably wouldn’t have made it this far.”

Virgil smiled, and Dante smiled in return. “I’m glad to have met you, Dante. Perhaps we will meet again one day. If not in this life, than the next, hopefully in more favorable circumstances.” They both chuckled. Dante folded the blanket and tried to give it back to Virgil.

“Keep it,” Virgil insisted, “Like I said, you probably need it more than I do.”

“Oh, um, thank you,” Dante replied. He was very grateful for it. He looked down at the blanket in his arms and knew he could definitely put it to good use. He stuffed it into his bag before throwing it over his shoulder. Virgil continued watching Dante. It broke his heart that they were splitting up, but he knew it was for the best.

Dante looked up at him, and soon the two were making eye contact. Virgil’s cheeks turned a bright pink and butterflies flew in his stomach. He felt as though he needed to say something, but he didn’t know what. He became speechless every time he looked into Dante’s dark brown eyes.

Virgil found himself slowly moving closer to Dante. He made a bold move. He leaned in and kissed Dante on the lips. To his surprise – and to his delight – Dante kissed back. Virgil’s arms wrapped around Dante and pulled him closer. Dante wrapped his arms around Virgil’s neck as he tilted his head and melted into the kiss. Virgil felt Dante’s nose brush against his cheek and smiled between the kiss. Dante’s lips, he noticed, were very soft. He broke away for air, and gazed back into Dante’s eyes.

“Virgil…” Dante whispered.

“Yes, Dante?”

Dante’s eyes began welling up with tears, “I… I’m going to miss you…”

“I’m going to miss you, too…” He gave Dante a sad smile as he brushed the hair out of Dante’s face. He kissed his head before turning away and leaving.

Virgil continued walking towards the mountain in the distance. It was hard for him not to look back.

The hike to the mountain was not an easy one, especially given Virgil’s condition. He had barely eaten over the past few days, and he was running out of water. After hiking for most of the day, Virgil was absolutely drained. He stopped for a brief water break before continuing on. He sighed as he listened to his stomach growl. He was famished. He knew that he wouldn’t be hiking for much longer if he didn’t eat something soon.

He looked around and found a bush with a bunch of berries on it. He knelt down beside it and checked to see if the berries were poisonous or not. They looked to be alright, so he quietly began picking and eating them. They were a bit sour, but other than that, they were okay. He picked quite a few of the berries and stored them in his bag for later.

He got up to leave when a heard leaves crunching near him. He anxiously clutched on to his scythe, too scared to turn around. He took a deep breath before glancing over his shoulder. He saw a figure quickly dart behind a tree. Cautiously, he turned around, and saw that it was a Tribute – one of the same ones who had attacked Dante a few days ago. The memory made him quiver. He had taken another boy’s life that day. He braced himself, in case he would have to do it again.

Before he had time to think about it anymore, the Tribute lunged at him. He quickly got out of the way and bolted out of there, leaving the Tribute in the dust. Virgil ran as fast as his legs would carry him. He didn’t make it very far, but he made it far enough to lose the Tribute. By the time he caught his breath, the sky was turning a light shade of red. He decided that it would be a good idea to stop for the night. He had a sneaking suspicion that the Games wouldn’t last much longer. He had to think on his feet – he knew things from here on out would be much more dangerous. The last day or so, he recalled, was always the most dangerous. The stakes would definitely be higher.

Sleeping on the ground, he figured, would be too risky. He thought that it would be best to sleep somewhere where no one could reach him. He found a large tree nearby. He got the rope out of his bag and slung it over his shoulder before hiding his weapon and his other supplies under some leaves and branches on the forest floor. He climbed the tree and stopped at a reasonably-high branch. He perched himself on it, making sure it would hold his weight before tying himself to it to make sure he wouldn’t fall and break his neck in the middle of the night. He leaned against the trunk of the tree and crossed his arms. It was a cold night – all of the nights in the arena seemed to be cold. Part of him wished he still had that blanket. The other part knew that Dante was most likely happy with it somewhere else.

The sky lit up and the anthem blared. Only one Tribute had died that day. Virgil was relieved that it wasn’t Dante.

Virgil looked up at the artificial stars. He knew that, somewhere, Dante was probably looking at those same stars. A sad smile crossed his face.

He hoped he was doing alright. It was that moment when he began to question whether or not splitting up was a good idea.

He sighed. There was nothing he could do about it now. He didn’t have time to think about his feelings. This was the Hunger Games, after all. It was kill or be killed. There were no exceptions.

He was so tired. Tired of worrying. Tired of thinking. He just wanted to sleep.

* * *

 

Virgil woke up the next morning, exhausted. It felt like he hadn’t slept at all, even though he knew he at least got a few hours. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t get to sleep that night. He tried to blame it on the uncomfortable tree, but he knew his own mind was the real one to blame.

He untied himself from the tree and slowly began climbing down. He slipped a bit but caught himself before he could fall. It nearly scared him to death. Eventually, he made it back down to the ground. He grabbed his stuff, and he began walking again. He was so close to the mountain now. He knew he could most likely make it there by nightfall.

He traveled on, fatigued. He reached another thick part of the forest – a part where the canopy was so heavy the sunlight barely peeked through. He looked around briefly for any dangerous creatures, but continued on when he realized there were none.

He yawn as he trudged forward. He was almost out when he heard a loud scream in the distance. It sounded familiar. That definitely snapped him out of his fatigue. He dashed in the direction of the scream and stopped when he saw Dante staggering toward him, clutching his stomach. Virgil reached out and caught him before he could fall.

“Dante, what’s wrong?”

Dante shook his head, “There’s no time! G-Get out of here while you still can! Leave me!”

“What? No! I’m not leaving you!”

Before he could say anything else, a tall Tribute with short, brown hair stepped out from behind a tree. She was holding Dante’s sword, which was dripping with blood, “Awww, no fair!” she exclaimed, “I was gonna kill him!”

Virgil gasped as he looked down at Dante. Dante continued to use his arms to cover the gash in his stomach. He was breathing heavily, and his eyebrows were furrowed together in pain.

“Oh, well,” she smirked, “I guess I’ll have to kill you both. Two birds, one stone.” she laughed before lunging at them with the sword. Virgil blocked the attack with his scythe and stabbed her in the shoulder. She cried out in pain and dropped the sword, clutching on to her shoulder. This gave Virgil enough time to awkwardly pick up Dante and run out of there.

Dante was surprisingly light. He weakly held onto Virgil as Virgil continued racing to a safer place. Soon, his running slowed down to jogging, and, eventually, his jogging slowed down to walking.

When the coast looked clear, Virgil stopped and laid Dante on the ground. He removed Dante’s hands from his stomach and began examining the wound. Dark red – almost black – blood seeped through Dante’s clothes. Dante let out a gasp of pain as Virgil pulled his shirt up to inspect the injury further. The wound was deep, and blood was pouring out of it at an alarming rate. Dante choked back a cry as Virgil carefully bandaged it.

“It’s okay, Dante,” he whispered, “You’re going to be okay…” he felt as though he was reassuring himself more than Dante.

“No, I’m not…” he quietly replied. He grabbed onto Virgil’s hand, his eyes wide and full of fear. ”Please… Don’t leave me…”

Virgil could feel tears streaming down his face. “I won’t leave you. I promise. I won’t ever leave you again.” He wiped the tears from his eyes and lifted Dante into his arms once more.

Dante felt as though he was in a daze as Virgil carried him. A wave of dizziness passed over him as he rested his head on Virgil’s shoulder. He closed his eyes, hoping the feeling would pass.

They continued on until they reached the mountain. Virgil found a small cave and decided that it would make a great place to stop for the night. He went inside and gently laid Dante down. He took the blanket out of Dante’s bag and covered him with it.

“You’ll be okay,” he reassured him once more. Dante couldn’t hear him. He had already fallen asleep. Virgil brushed the curly brown hair out of Dante’s eyes before kissing him on the forehead.

Virgil watched him through teary eyes as he slept. Thoughts raced through his head. _Maybe if we hadn’t decided to split up_ , he thought, _none of this would have happened_. He covered his face with his hands and cried. He didn’t know what to do.

He looked back over at Dante. He seemed so pale. So fragile.

He leaned against a wall of the cave and continued watching him. His eyelids grew heavy, and he found it harder and harder to stay awake. He tried to remain alert, but he couldn’t stop himself from dozing off.

He awoke with a start the next morning at the sound of a cannon. He sighed in relief. He was glad that another Tribute was gone. That was one less thing for him to worry about.

He glanced back at Dante. He inched over to him and lightly shook him. “Hey, Dante, there are only five Tributes left…”

Dante didn’t respond.

Virgil furrowed his eyebrows in concern and shook him again. “Dante?” he put his ear to Dante’s chest and listened for a second.

He heard nothing.

“D-Dante!?!” he started shaking him harder, trying to get a response. This did nothing.

There were, in fact, only five Tributes left. However, Dante was not one of them.

Virgil put his forehead to Dante’s chest and wept. He held Dante’s cold hand and continued sobbing. So many thoughts rushed through his head, he could barely hear them all. _I could have saved him. I could’ve. Maybe if I had run faster- maybe if I had gotten to him sooner…_  He wept until it seemed as if there were no tears left in him.

He didn’t know how long he had cried, but he did know that by the time he was done, the sun was already pretty high in the sky. He shielded his eyes from the bright sun as he trudged out of the cave. A dull, throbbing pain filled his chest. He rubbed the area where his heart was, but that didn’t seem to end the pain. Breathing only seemed to make it worse.

Aside from his chest, his whole body felt numb. Even his mind seemed to give up on plaguing him with thoughts. He felt as though he were in an old, black-and-white photograph; colorless and out of focus.

He wandered aimlessly through the forest. He didn’t know where he was going and, honesty, he didn’t care anymore.

He stepped between two trees and tripped. He looked back to see what he had tripped on, and he realized that he had tripped on some wire that had been tied between the trees. _What?_

“I’ve got you now!” the Tribute with short, brown hair shouted. She tackled him from behind as he tried to get up. Virgil felt a cold, sharp blade gently press against his back. He tried to reach for his scythe, only to realize that he had left it back in the cave. His heart pounded in his chest as he tried to push the girl off of him, but she had him pinned down. “Any last words?”

Virgil’s breath quickened as he tried to think of a way out. He never thought it would end like this. He struggled, but both he and the girl knew that it was no use.

“I guess not,” the girl supposed. He felt the sword pierce his back. Warm blood trickled out of his wound as he continued struggling. He tried not to scream as the girl stabbed his back again and again. He heaved breaths in and out like a fish out of water. His lungs burned as he coughed up blood, and he couldn’t find the energy to struggle anymore. The world around him seemed to darken, and Virgil began to accept his fate. There was nothing he could do about it now.

He closed his eyes, and his last thoughts were of Dante. The thought of Dante’s warm smile and big, brown eyes eased the pain and comforted him in his moment of death.

_Dante… I hope to see you soon…_


End file.
